Baliamo a Carnivale in Venazia!

     For the longest time I have dreamed of seeing Venice, Italy's Island City, in all its masquerade glory as it celebrates Carnivale. With elaborate costumes and mystery evoking masks, this celebration before Lent is world renown for its beauty and revelry in all things carnal. Stretching from the first to third weekends of February, Carnival is similar to Marti Gras in New Orleans and is synonymous with fun, excitement, and having a great time. I was fortunate enough to have the last weekend of Carnival off from work and had the opportunity to indulge in some Carnivale fun of my own. Traveling with a tour group made up mostly of college students, me and a friend of mine named Armand left early Saturday morning headed for "The Lagoon". We had the chance to get to make new friends on the 3 hour ride and were excited about traveling around this historic town seeing and enjoying all the sights of Venice. We decided to save the more rowdy and imbibed atmosphere of Piazza San Marco until later in the evening, and embarked by water bus to the islands of Murano and Burano on the outskirts of Venice.

    The first island, Murano, is world famous for glass making and is dotted with glass producing kilns and shops selling some of the most beautiful jewelry, ornate statuary, and other interesting pieces like wine stoppers and ornaments. For a small fee we were able to watch a live firing of a furnace and then saw the artisan create a glass oil bottle as well as a horse statue from the glowing molten glass he pulled from the red-hot furnace port. Afterwards, we were able to walk the island, peer into its boutique shops, and eventually decided to grab a bite to eat. As in every coastal town, Venice is well known for great seafood and I wanted to take this opportunity to try it for myself. An easy Italian dish, that most Americans can probably already pronounce with ease, is Calamari. This Italian word for squid caught my eye and was the seafood of choice for this fantastic relaxing afternoon lunch. Once lunch was finished and the sweet Lemoncello started to work is relaxing magic, we caught another water bus to head towards Burano and its famous brightly colored homes.

    The island of Burano is known for its strict laws that regulate the painting of ones home without expressed color approval from the local island council. For this reason the island has maintained a very traditional feel and the bright colors are retained to give the small town a quaint feel. Colors like bright sunset orange, and sky blue, mix with grape purple, lime green, and rose red to add a wonderful and happy sight throughout the town. Noticing that the sun was starting its decent towards the waters edge, we headed back to the main island and Piazza San Marco to officially begin our Carnivale experience.

    Throughout the day everyone had purchased their masks and were now ready to dawn them as we walked the narrow streets and tight allies that are dotted with tiny bridges throughout the main island. The subtle sound of a Gondolier's paddle rippling through the water and the smell of fresh seafood added to the ambiance of this great city. As we approached and grew ever closer to the main piazza, celebratory music could be heard bouncing from wall to wall, and our eyes eventually opened onto the huge piazza with its famous tower and arched colonnade. Brightly color costumes, embroidered with feathers, sequins, and glitter in huge drafts made this a sight to behold. Women (and some men) wore reproduction 17th century powdered wigs and were dressed in matching gowns each one more elaborate than the last. I cannot begin to explain how much fun this party, repeated every year since the Renaissance was more beautiful and mesmerizing than I ever could have imagined. Thoughts of Casanova and other famous Venetians of the past danced through my mind, as I wondered how this must have felt hundreds of years ago, and how I am now part of its everlasting story. I was walking along streets mentioned in fairytales and was enjoying every moment of it. I was very lucky to celebrate this time with some new friends that were equally amazed and equally ready for a fun night of dancing, singing, and revelry in a bit/bottle of wine and Bellini drinking. We walked the colonnade multiple times enjoying the sights, smells, and tastes of Venice while always ready to stop and pose with other more ornately dressed party goers. There was even the occasional super tourist, who wanted to pose with us and our more simple masks. Just to be a part of this grand party was an honor, and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to be a small part of its magical wonder and fantastic excitement. I believe that this celebration is enjoyed for its sense of mystery, romance, and the anything goes attitude towards life. I myself even had the chance to get a little naughty with a girl friend of mine who I think enjoyed the mystery behind a masked man (I think Casanova had it way to easy living in Venice). As for me, a beautifully dressed masked woman has its appeal as well. VIVA VENEZIA!



Buon Natale a tutti!

     So, I know I am over a month behind in blogs, but have been so busy with trips, holidays, and trying to figure things out with the family, that I have had scarce time to even think about writing. As soon as Christmas came, so too did dinners, parties, and then a few days in Berlin for New Years. I was looking forward to a break from work, and some time by myself here in Florence for sure. With enthusiasm I waited to see what Christmas would be like in Italy. I have to say that it was not as grandiose nor was it as spectacular as I had imagined in my mind. I thought that the center of the Christian, or at least Catholic world would surely know how to celebrate this most holy of days. They have had thousands of years to get it just right, but they seem to have lost or forgotten all the true joy and passion for this great holiday. Lights and candles sparkled throughout the city, hanging in every piazza and glowing down every alle, but their brightness however, seemed not to lite the lives of the people who put them up. Christmas trees and nativity scenes appeared a few weeks before the holiday, and as is Italian tradition, the baby Jesus was missing from his manger, waiting to magically appear on the 25th. It seemed to be the only the English speakers who seemed excited about all the decorations, and the camera flash bulbs of tourist lit up the sky along side twinkling lanterns and wreaths.

     As for me, I was very fortunate to have a few friends stay behind in Florence over the holidays, and was excited to share this holiday season with them. I was so blest to have the opportunity to attend Christmas eve midnight mass at the Duomo with my friend Amber who was new to town and excited about seeing the Cathedral for the first time that night. We met up around 10:30 and got a chance to talk about our homes and our family traditions. I of course had seen the inside of the Duomo before, but could not help but to catch Amber's excitement and joy about seeing it for her first time. I myself wanted to see how it would be decorated that night for the Christmas Mass. As we walked closer, we could hear the beautiful music resonating from inside its green and white marble encrusted facade. After passing through its heavy wood and bronze doors, we were immediately struck by the sheer size of the space as well as the vast number of people already inside. Add to that visual impact, the subtle sweet smell of the incense from the high alter, and you were taken by just how marvelous this time was going to be. Amber and I found our seats and joined in the singing (as best we could), and enjoyed the night together as we watch the procession of the bishop and the administering of holy communion. I will say that one of my most fond and enduring memories of my time here in Florence will forever be my communion taken at midnight under the elaborate paintings of the dome at Christmas Mass. As the service finished an alter boy walked towards the tiny manger now covered with a small white blanket to reveal the baby Jesus now in His manger completing the nativity and marking the arrival of our Savior as well as Christmas day. After the moving and breathtaking ceremony, Amber and I walked out, amazed at what we had just witnessed, and talking about what Christmas really means to each of us. As we separated to go back home we made plans for what to do Christmas day.

     I was also very grateful to be invited to a family style pot luck dinner on Christmas night with an Au Pair friend of mine, witch promised to be amazing. I had been looking for an occasion to pull out my mom's pecan pie recipe, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I think that many people now think Southerns must live solely on backed sweets, as it is the only thing I continue to make for every special occasion. As usual, the adventure in it all was where to find the ingredients for such a pie. I searched all over town, and then in frustration resorted to typing this into a Google search: "where to buy pecans in Florence Italy". Not sure why I though that that would work, but gave it a try none the less. And no surprise, not a thing appeared that seemed all that promising, except for a short mention of pecans and pie in an old blog. I clicked it just to satisfy my search, and low and behold, an answer. The blog post stated that pecans were "impossible" to find in most of Europe, but that the blogger had used hazelnuts as a substitute and had fantastic success. So with this knowledge I knew right where to go, the San Lorenzo Market.

     This market is like nothing I have ever seen before. It houses stalls containing everything from fresh seafood, to a whole spit roasted pig for that very special occasion, and also an assortment of varied wines, cheeses, vegetables, sweets, nuts, and a restaurant to eat it all in. I especially love and get a laugh out of passing the kosher stall that is buttoned up tightly behind closed doors and segregated far from any pig associated items. I will say it does seem rather clean and sanitary in comparison to the hanging, sometimes bleeding, ducks and wild caught rabbit around the corner. I was certain to find everything I needed here and it would also serve as a real world test of my budding Italian language skills. I was confident of most of the words I needed so I set off to do it right. While in the market I picked up some "zucca" for a pumpkin pie, some "vino dolce" for after dessert, and the "nocciole" I needed for substitution. I was able to almost flawlessly ask for each and every item, as well as greet each vendor and have a bit of small talk while they filled my order. With an "arrivederci" and "buona sera" I felt very confident with my days work. Now the only obstacle was translating all the amounts and temperatures into grams and Celsius and start baking my contribution to dinner. Amber and I had decided after Midnight Mass the day before that she wanted to come over and help me prepare the pies and to go with me to dinner as well since she was still a little confused on directions and street names in town. I was glad to have the help, and so, invited her over to help measure and bake for that night.

     We had a great day of mixing and measuring, a little bit of white wine drinking, and laughing about more fun Christmas memories we had of back home, and all the new ones we were creating. Once both pies were finished, we headed out on foot were we walked down the river and across the Ponte Vecchio to our friend's apartment. We continued to have a few laughs as we caught the bewildered stares of locals and tourists alike eyeing our freshly made pies and looking amazed and confused as to what we were doing. When we arrived to dinner, the cheerful Christmas banter continued over still more wine, as we helped set the table and added the finishing touches to the roast, grilled bread with patte, and fried polenta. As the last few guests arrived, we were told that an actual priest from Santa Maria del Fiore aka the Duomo was also coming over for dinner. He arrived dressed smartly in his black tunic and small white square collar carrying yet another bottle of great Italian wine. Everyone gathered at the table ready to enjoy what promised to be an amazing meal. Firstly though, everyone waited as the priest said a beautiful and very cheerful grace and blessing over the food, and the friends that were gathered together for a celebration of Christs birth. All of the food was delicious and in classic Italian fashion took several hours to finish. We stayed to chat and talk late into the night and were all so grateful for such a fantastic and memorable night.

     I was worried before Christmas that I might feel really homesick, and miss my family a great deal during the holidays. However, with friends and memories like these, I feel truly blest and know that God has blessed and continues to bless me with unseen gifts and is giving me memories that I can look back on later with such joy and thanksgiving. I will probably never spend another Christmas in Italy, but am so glad to have had such an amazing one to remember always.



Il Balletto Schiaccianoci

     It is finally cold her in Florence, and with this crisp fresh air, the feelings of Christmas are starting to fill everyday with joy, excitement, and hope for a great holiday season. I have, as one of my Christmas traditions, a trip with my mother to see the University of Georgia Orchestra perform their holiday concert every year. Since it is obvious that I will not be attending this years show, I decided to recreate this joyous experience here in Florence. Back home I secretly had my brother and his fiance accompany my mom to this years concert so that she could still enjoy this Christmas tradition with them just as she does me every year. For myself, I searched for a local orchestra or concert hall in Florence, and was pleasantly surprised to find the "Teatro Verde" which is Florence's answer to a great opera hall. I looked through their program and found that the famous "Nutcracker Ballet" was playing on the 21st of December and knew that it would be a wonderful show to see here in Italy. I did not want to attend by myself, so I invited a friend of mine that was also staying here in Florence for the holidays. Rachael was very excited about going with me, and I was equally excited about going with her. We both got dressed up, not quite knowing how serious the Italians might take the Ballet, and were glad we did. This occasion was quite formal and was just how you might imagine the Ballet to be. We both got a laugh out of one lady who chose to wear red from head to heals. Red glasses hung below a crimson cap and right above bright red lips, which were directly above a "Georgia Bulldogs" red dress and matching purse, gloves and shoes. As the lights began their preshow flicker, we went to find our seats, but were met with quite a challenge. Like most things in Italy it seems, the numbering system was not exactly what you would call straight forward, and took quite a bit of ingenuity to figuring out. Sadly we both lacked such a skill at the present moment and settled for just trying to get lucky. We later figured out that I had purchased two seats, that online appeared to be together, but were actually on two separate floors. We decided to just find two empty seats in a balcony box and hoped that we could remain together for the length of the performance. Maybe five minutes before the play was to start, the rightful owners of the box suite appeared and we had to play the classic "dumb Americans" excuse as we looked first looked confused and then slipped out appearing humiliated. Underneath however we were quite tickled as these expressions turned to laughter as we walked down the hallway. We found another booth with empty seats and a lovely Italian mother with her two girls who spoke English who offered us seats with them. We thanked her and her daughters and began to chit-chatted until the curtain began to rise and the lights went black. The opera house itself was quite beautiful, trimmed in ornate wooden carvings and moldings, dappled in warm candle light, covered with plush red velvet draperies and tapestries embellished with tassels of fine gold thread. The play or ballet itself contained no words so no language barrier hindered our enjoyment of the show. Throughout the ballet the old familiar songs like the Toy Soldier March and the Flight of the Sugarplum Fairies brought back memories of past orchestral performances back home at UGA. I was so glad to share this opportunity with a good friend, and to find a new way of celebrating a holiday tradition. Can't wait to get back to Athens and see my Dawgs play though!



I refuse to give up!

     I expected this time in Italy to be full of the emotional ups and downs for sure. Thus far during my travels, I have tried to stick with posting only those fantastically wonderful ups, but now is an important moment for me to take some time and discuss those sometimes horribly depressing downs. My study abroad experience while at the University of Georgia taught me that homesickness would be one such obstacle I would have to conquer while living abroad for such an extended time. Little did I expect that those overwhelming, pit-forming moments would be so strong at week two. Luckily they only lasted for about a week, and were replaced by a stronger sense of personal adventure and excitement about truly living in Florence. They have since returned only for short moments and never as strong. Christmas I know will be full of mixed emotions, but all in all will be full of new experiences that I can treasure for a lifetime. It has helped to realized that the love I have for my home, family, and friends while difficult to physically express thousands of miles away, are no less strong and enduring than when I am surrounded by them. Love, I have come to understand knows no sense of distance nor is it limited by time zones or the magnitude of vast oceans. I can rest assured that those people and places I love are aware of my love and I of there's. It is also such a blessing to have Skype, which makes the longings for home much more bearable when I can see the faces and hear the voices of my loved ones back in the States. I have been placed in Florence, partly because of my own desire, fascination, and affection for this "citta bella", with its many cultural treasures, as well as, I believe, God's ultimate plan and desire for my life which will be to the growth of myself. Simply put, I am here so I choose to make the most of it! 

     However, as of late, another distraction from this bliss has interrupted and shaken my joy while living here. This obstacle is neither internal, nor is it self inflicted. The "honeymoon phase" with which I enjoyed approximately two month with the family and Giova has worn away to leave very distinct and visible differences in the methods and ways I was raised, and how Italians, and moreover this family, choose to raise Giovanni. Little Giova now is coming to the realization that I am not merely a playmate nor am I one who will blindly give in to his tantrums and his fits of anger. I try as hard as I know how to continue to show and tell him everyday how much I care and adore him, with the truth that I am his teacher, mentor, and a respected adult in his life. Finding a balance that suits both my needs and those of his parents has posed the greatest of challenges. I see my job and duty here as someone who must get the essentials like eating, getting dressed, brushing teeth, and bath time done, while also making sure to focus on the moments in between when playing, coloring, and having fun help to make our relationship strong and full of joy. In the last few weeks Giova has begun to blatantly ignore and sometimes intentionally sabotage my efforts. He knows that his parents can at times give in quite easily and when he is frustrated or angry with me, will run to them as a place of refuge and consolation. Mavi has even gone as far as to admit that it is his fault, but that I must evolve to work around it, which I find a bit laughable. They do not understand that this builds a wall between he and I and also destroys the relationship that we must foster where he respects my authority and listens to my advice. Giova also realizes that as for his parents, a well placed tear or a proper angry scream often warrants their intervention and thus continues in his achieving his goals and getting what he wants. I have tried to discuss this problem with his parents and thus far have had little in the way of help and support. I have been sustained by compliments and motivation from other au pairs and other mothers in the community who applaud my somewhat strict methodology and see that it is needed by Giovanni to help him transition from his more toddler-like mentality to a more responsible and respectful young childhood phase.

     Luckily for both his parents and I, Christmas holiday has come, and this time apart will give us both an opportunity to reevaluate what we need from each other, as well as what we want for and from Giovanni. I have been fortunate to have other au pairs give me advice, and in one instance, buy me a small toy to use for a certain technique she has taught me. I am so lucky to be supported by these great people as well as from everyone back home. I am having a fantastic few first days of my holiday break and am already excited about the families return, when I can start to tackle these problems and solve these issues in a more constructive way. I can always use more prayers, but I know I am firstly in God's hands, and secondly, determined in my own ability to evolve, adapt, and work hard through any problem. Man, who new moving to Italy would teach me so much! Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!  

               

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord." Luke 2:11

"Oggi nella città di Davide un salvatore è nato a voi, che è il Cristo Signore". Luca 2:11

We own another Villa!!!

     I am constantly amazed at the wealth and deep history connected with the Guiccardini Corsi Salviati family. In addition to the very grand and lavish "palazzo" we live in full-time at the heart of Florence's historical district, and the truly beautiful country villa in Maremma/Aquisti, this affluent and influential Florentine family also has another "rural" villa called "Villa a Sesto". I say "rural" with the explanation that at one point this villa was considered a retreat from the hustling, dirty, and often throughout history, plague ridden fortified city of Firenze. "A Sesto" literally means "a sixth" to geographically explain that the area surrounding it is approximately six kilometers from the nearest gate of Florence. With modern expansion and urban growth exploding far beyond the Medieval city walls, Villa A Sesto is no longer surrounded by rural pasturelands nor is it pastoral in appearance. The villa itself is enclosed within 8-10 foot high stone walls that help to block the modern sounds of cars and busses, and restricts the view of more modern structures like gas stations and hotels. Within these bastions a quiet and peaceful garden is still lovingly tended and labyrinths of neatly pruned hedges still invite you to wonder aimlessly for hours. The villa is now home to the University of Michigan and houses their students who wish to study art, history, and language. I am amazed at the expansive grounds that surround the even more unbelievable complex of buildings. We have antique lithograph drawings of this villa hanging throughout the palazzo and the villa seems to be the true pride of this aristocratic family. I have studied some about it while lounging in the living room as it appears in every major garden and villa book the family has collected as coffee table decoration. 

      I however would have a very unique first encounter with this place and would see it first in much a different way. I was told that we would be visiting the villa on a Saturday morning and that Giova wanted to take little bird traps to set as we toured the gardens. Of course I immediately, and with great joy agreed to go, not knowing that yet again, in true Italian style, some very important decision changing information was quite ambiguously missing. I discovered later that we would have to wake up around 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning so that we could set the traps in the dark as well as the freezing cold. I was still so excited about seeing this much written about Renaissance villa that I went along just remembering that I have woken up much earlier for duck hunting with the promise of much less in the way of entertainment. When we arrived we found the elderly grounds keeper and his lovely wife already up and prepared to graciously welcome us in. Luca chatted for a moment and at the begging of Giova we left to set around 18 small bird traps scattered throughout the "Bosque" or man-made forest setting to the south of the gardens. As the sun began to rise and my hands, ears, and feet began to thaw the gardens awakened with the sounds of birds, and the rushing of water heard in the distance. We would leave the traps to sit for a while and would wondered the gardens and I would become even more enamored with its beauty with each step. We left the now bobby-trapped forest setting to go and wonder through the more formal rose gardens and along the alleys of changing fall trees covered in bright orange and yellow foliage. The villa came into view as well, and was amazingly beautiful with the newly risen sun dappling it with spots of warmth. Statues and fountains scattered along numerous paths were a sight to behold as I felt amazed and lucky to not only be in Italy, but to experience this very grand garden that epitomized the stories and lectures I had so boringly sat through while studying Landscape Architecture back at Georgia. I was reminded of why I love the outdoors and nature by the very presence of a sunrise, and also why I love garden design by the most beautiful splendor seen here at the villa. After an hour or so of running and playing with Giova through mazes, over bridges, and past statues and after taking numerous photos, it was time to find our catch and head home. In all we caught 4 or 5 birds that day which Luca and Giova would enjoy for dinner that night. I myself am not so impressed with the tiny little scraps of meat that cling onto the bones of a bird no bigger than a sparrow, so I will let them enjoy that all to themselves. Luca promised that we would return in the spring to tour the house itself and to see the blooming of flowers that I am positive will prove to be gorgeous.

The "Militari" came to town!

     I pass through Piazza Santa Croce to and from home almost every day and today something was very different! The usually quiet square full of tourists and the occasional monk or priest going into the basilica was replaced with tanks, motorcycles, army bunkers, and soldiers or "soldati". The Italian military was having a promotion day hoping to lour local Florentines into service under the Republic, and had their different branches of armed forces set up in tents to hand out information. I was intrigued! I guess the American military does this at local campuses around the States and I often saw the regular army cadet at UGA handing out flyers, but this was impressive. The tanks were massive, and the recreated first aid or red cross station was so cool. The different branches also had their dress uniforms on, complete with feathered hats and shinning swords clanging at their sides. I walked through to see some of the sites, but still felt a little hesitant about my Italian, and did not want to make a cultural mistake here amongst Italy's bravest, finest, and most armed.

     When I picked Giova up from school that day, I told him that the "militari" were at the house, and looking for him. He smiled and said that it was not true, and I told him that we would just have to go and see. All the way home he kept asking me if I was "for real", sounding more anxious and nervous with every asking and as we got closer and closer. As we came to the corner of the Piazza his eyes opened so wide as he yelled "There they are!" we parked the bike, and started to walk around when he caught a glimpse of the tank standing imposingly in the corner, cannon pointed into the crowd. He immediately ran over towards it and saw another little boy wearing an oversized army helmet complete with eye-piece and antenna standing in the turret. He yanked on my hand and begged me to let him up in the tank as well. We waited for our turn and when the soldier placed the huge helmet on his head, it bobbed and bounced under the weight, while he tried to maneuver himself into the tank and up through the hole leading to the turret. We got our pictures taken in front of this goliath machine, and Giova got one taken while he was in the belly of the beast. Now that I had my little-bit-bigger-than-a-pocket translator with me I felt comfortable walking up to the booths and looking at the promotional materials. We collected pens, posters, post cards, and arm bracelets like the yellow "Live Strong" bracelets of Lance Armstrong. I wear my to this day to remind me of military service all over the world that keeps me safe and secure. I was thinking all the while about those friends of mine back in the states who were either already deployed on foreign service, or were in the process of their own enlistment. I cannot help but to be thankful for the commitment and strength they show by their service to our country and to providing freedom that I all too often take for granted. Asa and Cameron, love, miss and am so proud of you guys! This was a fun chance to see a side of a country that many tourists never even think about and most don't ever see. I am really impressed with the Italian military and am really glad to share this day with my bud Giova!

La Zucca Torta

     As the winter slowly approached here in Florence, and the cold crisp air signals the changing of yet another season, I am reminded of all the wonderful holidays that I have spent back home in Grayson, and I am flooded with thoughts about everyone back home. It is odd how only now I seem to truly realize the magnitude of spending 9 months abroad. I knew that I would be away for holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, but had no idea the weird sense I have now of missing all the comforts and familiarity back home. Little things like a fire in our family room, or the food served for a big Thanksgiving dinner, all will be missing this year. I cannot replace the places or the people or even some of the things I left back home, but I know that this holiday season will have its own memories and its own sense of giving thanks and joy. Just as Florentines love the celebration of Halloween, they too are interested in the concept and tradition of an American Thanksgiving. On numerous occasions, when asked about the meaning or historical relevance of this day, I usually create a story filled with Indians and Pilgrims coming together for pumpkins and freshly harvested corn. They sit around a large table and share the bounty of the new world. And suddenly it hits me, this is what we tell children and what I myself have pictured occurring on this day, but it is all a contrived fallacy. Don't get me wrong, I love Thanksgiving and the story makes for cute decorations and funny crafts for kids, (thank goodness) and does its part in setting a fantastic mood, but now I realize that I love this holiday for exactly what the name implies. I love giving thanks for the blessings in my life, and even more so now that those blessings are more distant from me.
      So how do you celebrate Thanksgiving in Italy? Well, I knew they have pumpkins or "Zucca" and pie crust is simple enough, why not just make a delicious pumpkin pie, which is one of my favorite back home. It took me about a week to get all the ingredients needed for this classic holiday dessert and about a hour, to translate it from cups, tablespoons, and degrees F to grams, liters, and degrees C, but it was worth it. One of the hardest ingredients to find, was a replacement for graham crackers in the crust I new would be delicious for the pie. After tasting several sweet cookies, Mavi's breakfast cookie, I found, would work perfectly. I wanted to use this occasion to spend some time with Giova in the kitchen and to watch him enjoy the mixing, and measuring, and spoon licking that is all so much fun when cooking. Some of my favorite holiday memories back home include the smell of our kitchen when mom was frantically cooking the delicious food for our family Thanksgiving meals. And I remember being told during the holidays to stay out of my moms way while she cooked. All of us boys took the warning quite seriously, but would always listen for the sound of a blender or the tapping of a whisk to stop, and knew that in that very moment mom had finished something that would result in a sticky, sweet, messy kitchen utensil that needed licking. Anthony, Mitchell, and I would run in and inevitably she would ask, "Who wants the whisk, and who wants the bowl?" As I watched Giova pulverize the cookies in the blender, and gave him the finished whisk after the whip cream was ready, I was taken back to a very happy time in my own life. To see the joy in his face was worth the mess I would later realize we made. Once the pie was poured and in the oven, we went back to playing with toys and coloring, but this is now a memory of a Thanksgiving half a world away that I can carry with me forever and look back with fondness next year, years from now, and one day when I have children of my own.
     The family loved the pie, and again complimented me on another well done job in the kitchen. I really enjoy spending time mixing and cooking, and talking of back home with Giova while we bake delicious treats we can both enjoy. I would say my Italian Thanksgiving was a success, and look forward to my Italian Christmas here with the family, and to all those I love back in the "New World" Happy Thanksgiving!